“Ah, there you are!”
A chipper male voice shouts in Vladesvyan across the stables Ben and I have just walked into. The massive brick and wood building has been on the grounds of Novokeva Castle forever, and it sure looks that way. Antique riding equipment pieces are used as wall decorations, and the actual stables are carved with ornate designs. Typical of Ben’s royal house to be this extravagant.
“Your Highness, it is so good to see you back here!” The man, short and nimble with a thick shock of peppered hair gracing his head, bows before addressing us again—this time in English. “And it is even better to see you here with your fiancé.”
Blood rushes into my face. I’m still not used to that word. If I’m not used to that word I can’t imagine how I’ll react when people start calling me his wife, and calling him my husband.
“It’s very nice to finally meet you,” I nod. “Ben’s talked a lot about you.”
The man’s eyes light up joyfully before he checks himself and gathers his composure. “Aha, I knew you would never forget me,” he teases Ben.
Ben chuckles, “How could I forget you, Ivan? You whipped my butt for years.”
“Yes, yes I did,” Ivan states proudly. Then, he turns his attention back to me and asks, “Now, Your Highness have you ever ridden before?”
I shrug, “At summer camps, yeah.”
He lets out a groan of disgust. “Oh, those horrid excuses for riding programs across the pond are absolutely—oh, they make the lot of us instructors red with fury. I bet they didn’t even teach you how to turn the bloody horse!”
I confirm his theory with a, “Nope, they didn’t.”
Throwing his hands up in the air quite dramatically, he motions for us to follow him further into the stables. On the way, he rants about the horrible training programs in the U.S. while flailing his hands every which way. A few times both Ben and I have to duck and dodge away from his arms and hands.
It’s quite comical, the process of getting ready for the lesson. First, Ivan leads me over to three horses being held by three young stable hands. Two girls and a boy stare back at Ben and I like we’re aliens with three heads. I suppose it’s only natural, though. I keep forgetting we’re back in Vladesvya and all the people here know us.
“I want you to pet each of them, and take your time choosing one. The one you choose will be yours until it dies—and the other two will be your back ups in case of an emergency.”
With a silent nod, I step forward. The stable hands release the reigns and allow me to get closer. All three of them are a grayish white. The one on the left is a little too jumpy for me, though. I skip to the one in the middle and find that he’s friendly, but the one on the far right is the one that I finally pick.
“Ah, good choice. This one’s name is Zvezda. She’s a purebred Orlov Trotter, very nice stamina and wonderful at—obviously—trotting,” Ivan explains excitedly.
Zvezda. It means ‘star’ in Vladesvyan and Chirnovian—one of the many common words we share.
It’s another hour before I even get on the damn horse. He makes me go over how to get on it gracefully—aka a lesson on how not to make a fool of myself in front of seasoned military riders.
“Your posture has gotten sloppy, Your Highness,” Ivan teases Ben as we lazily stroll out of the stables. I can feel the curious eyes of all the workers on us already. Hopefully, Ivan takes us somewhere far away from private eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Graduating Princess
Teen FictionBen has just been shot, and lies in an induced coma in the hospital. Victor is a mess and AnnaMaria isn't much better. With the violent events in Chirnova and Vladesvya coming to a horrifying climax, the world's eyes are all on them. Chaos ensues as...
